


Want to Dance with Me?

by KasumiAFKGod



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Break Dance AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 01:29:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6264136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KasumiAFKGod/pseuds/KasumiAFKGod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To dance was to be free. To dance was to feel. To dance was to live. And to have someone dancing with you?</p><p>That was magic. [Breakdance AU]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Marinette was out of her seat with her things packed before the bell was done ringing, shooting a hasty goodbye to a startled Alya as she dashed out the door. Fighting the backpack onto her shoulders, the petite girl flew down the stairs three at a time and cleared the last five with an acrobatic leap. She grunted as her feet hit the ground, leaning her body forward to run with the momentum without so much as a pause.

 

Marinette growled at herself as she tore past the the front door and down the steps, along the sidewalk and skidded around the corner. She knew she would be cutting it close today with the extra class scheduled after school, but there was no way she could have played truant. She wouldn’t have a believable explanation for her absence, and—though it was a pretty long shot—it might arouse suspicion she couldn’t afford.

 

After all, she could make it in five minutes …. Right?

 

Storefronts and cafes slid past her peripheral vision, the paved walkways becoming a blur under her feet as she pushed herself faster. The nose of a pram jutted into her path from a supermarket and she leaped over it, tucking in her legs while airborne and kept running, ignoring the angry shouts of the mother. The pedestrian light ahead flashed red just as she reached the intersection, and a rare curse slipped from her lips. Making a split second decision, she darted across the street, cars honking, narrowly avoiding getting run over by the last car by planting her hand on the bonnet and using it as leverage to spin around the car bumper. Wincing at the chaos, she cut through an alleyway and made herself scarce. 

 

The alley was dark, the passage less than three feet wide; just barely enough for her to tear through without skinning her arms on the rough brick on either side. She saw the chain link fence coming up and jumped into the air, latching onto it halfway up with clawed fingers and the tips of her flats. Scaling effortlessly over it, she jumped back onto the ground, her palm smacking onto it for balance before she kicked off and kept running towards the light.

 

When she emerged, it was in an abandoned neighbourhood hidden away from tourist eyes and long forgotten by the locals. The famous Parisian architecture of uniform shapes and aesthetic geometry were nowhere to be found here. The buildings were drab and grey, paint long since cracked and peeled away, the underlying concrete stained by several years worth of rain and faded by the sun. Some structures even looked partially demolished, as if someone had tried to flatten the entire area for reconstruction but then changed their mind and left the entire thing to rot away to anonymity. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought no one had set foot in this place for years.

 

But she did know better, and the Victorian was home to a few secrets kept hidden away from the public eye.

 

Marinette tore down the dilapidated streets, familiar enough that she could have navigated them blindfolded and walking backwards. Beads of sweat began forming on her skin as she rounded corners and jumped over any decris in her way. Her breaths came harder, pants filling the air along with her pounding feet, before they were joined by the unmistakable beats of music. She was close.

 

Skidding to a halt, Marinette dodged into the nearest building—an old drugstore, the vague outline of a red cross barely visible on the signboard discoloured beyond recognition. Diving behind the counter, Marinette dumped her bag onto the floor and all but ripped open the zipper, pulling a bundle of clothes from the bottom of her books, writing utensils, spare sketches, and tablet. She frowned, and dug deeper into the bag, tongue between her teeth until she let out a whoop of delight and pulled back her hand, a brilliant red glass jar.

 

Ladybug had an appearance to make.

 

* * *

 

“Adrien, dude, chill. It’s only been five minutes, we can’t have missed that much.”

 

Adrien Agreste tore his eyes away from the taunting, stark white numbers of the clock on his phone screen to shoot his friend an exasperated look. “What do you mean? I  _ am _ being chill.”

 

“Don’t even try to insult me, I know your lovesick puppy face when I see it. Ladybug is performing. No way are you chill.”

 

Adrien opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the girl sitting across from him in the limo.

 

“Just ignore him, Adrien. A nerd like him wouldn’t recognise real dance talent if it hit him in the face with a Ladybug-print brick,” said Alya, face still in her phone.

 

“Nerd? Me? And this is coming from the girl running the official fanblog for—”

 

“Ignoring,” repeated Alya, raising an arm to position her palm in front of NIno’s face. Finally looking up from her phone, she shot Adrien a grateful smile. “Speaking of which, thanks so much for letting me hitch a ride, Adrien. This will let me grab lots of good footage for the blog on the scene as it happens!”

 

“Anytime, Alya. Just glad I could help, I was heading there anyway,” said Adrien, returning the smile. Turning to Nino beside him, he jabbed a elbow at his best friend. “Although, if our nerd here is such a hater, I don’t know why he decided to come with us. Maybe I should have you ejected from the car.”

 

“Hey! No one said anything about being a hater!” protested Nino, dodging the elbow and throwing his cap at Adrien, who deflected it with a raised arm. “You know I can’t dance, I’m just there for the music. Victorian’s DJ has got some pretty sick beats.”

 

Adrien made a show of rolling his eyes. “Whatever you say, bro.”

 

“And you don’t have room to talk. You can’t dance either, so why are you so hung up about Ladybug?” Nino accompanied his question with a pointed look, which Adrien studiously avoided by glancing out the window at everything zipping by as the limo sped through the streets. Seeing his reflection in the window, he shared a secret smile with it.

 

“I don’t know myself,” he said, deciding to go with a half-truth. “It’s just …. There’s something about her that makes her different, makes her stand out from among everyone else.” Adrien swallowed. “I can’t really put my finger on it, and this is going to sound stupid, but … the way she dances, the way she moves, like she’s happy and she didn’t have a care in the world? It’s almost like magic.”

 

“Oh! But I think the  _ real _ magic is when Chat breaks the floor with her; their chemistry is unbelievable!” Alya gushed, oblivious to the rising blush Adrien was attempting to hide against the window glass. “The way  _ they _ move? Now that’s  _ miraculous _ !”

 

“Fangirl,” muttered Nino. Alya heard, and rewarded him with a kick in the shins.

 

Then Adrien saw it, the familiar sight of the looming building sending a jolt of adrenaline through his system as the limo sped towards it. Unlike the bare concrete structures surrounding it, this one had entire kaleidoscopes of colour on its walls; artistic graffiti covering every available surface as if the once-supermarket had sucked up all the life and colour from the area for itself. The music emitting from within, audible even from within in the car, sent a thrum through him as if he were finally waking up from a long, fitful sleep.

 

“We’re here,” Adrien said a little too quickly, wrenching himself free of the seat belt and throwing open the door before the limo had completely rolled to a stop. He flung himself out of the limo, stumbling and almost face planting on the sidewalk. Nino and Alya followed after him with much more grace, thanking the Gorilla as the burly man grunted and drove off. When they turned back around, Adrien was nowhere in sight.

 

Adrien darted through the crowd, heart in his mouth, pushing past the press of bodies to get deeper inside. His chest reverberated from the volume of the music, drowning out the shouted conversations. It seemed the gathering was already in full swing, the attendees clamouring for the dancing to start. The Victorian accepted anyone who was willing to perform, but an overwhelming majority of the members here were in their teens. No one paid him any notice when he darted away from the crowd, sneaking to a secluded upper level where he slipped into a dusty broom closet and slammed the door shut before flicking on the lone, flickering light bulb. He threw down his bag, regretting it immediately when a cloud of dust tickled his nose and elicited a sneeze from him. Rubbing the back of his hand across his face, he glanced at the time on his phone again and winced at the numbers.

 

He could make it in thirty seconds …. Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Fairly long 4am author ramblings below, completely optional. Feel free to skip.
> 
> After a month of deliberating, I finally decided to go ahead and write this. Initially, I was inspired by Step Up (particularly Step Up 2, since that was the only one I watched xD). Then I found out about starrycove's Breakdance AU and was like 'omg no I can't write this any more this looks so much more fleshed out than what I had in mind'. But I didn't see anyone writing a fic about this (yet …?) so I thought I'd just give it a go.
> 
> The title of this fic and the place 'The Victorian' are in reference to a locally made manga called 'Wanna Dance With You' by Leoz. It's also about dancing, but goes into heavier stuff with there being an underground dance kingdom-ish thing going on. I didn't really want to go that direction, but didn't have enough material for plotting the story other than 'Marinette and Adrien are secretly Ladybug and Chat Noir, notorious street dancing duo'. After finding out about the Breakdance AU, some alterations, and much headdesking, I think I got something that can be worked into a semi-decent story so here we are. xD
> 
> Also, I'd like to say beforehand that I've never danced in my life and don't know anything about any kind of dancing so if I make a mistake or if anyone feels they can educate me in some way, my askbox (over at tumblr, username kasumiafkgod) is always open. ;)
> 
> Updates will be sporadic, and I have no idea how long this will end up, but I have a general idea of where I want to go so hopefully I won't hit any roadblocks along the way BUT WE ALWAYS KNOW WHAT HAPPENS TO THE BEST LAID PLANS.


	2. Chapter 2

Blood pounding in her ears, music beating in her chest. Both pumping through her entire body, breathing life into her being. She took a deep breath, hyper-aware of each muscle tensing and relaxing to accommodate her expanding lungs. Flexing her fingers, curling them into fists, she watched the black spandex of her fingerless gloves stretch over her hand. Cold air washed over her exposed midriff and bared arms, a sensation alien to Marinette.

But not to Ladybug.

Exhaling in a whoosh, she made her way to the dance floor, spectators and dancers alike hurrying to make a clear path for her. Pigtails bounced against her shoulders, bared by the sports bra; uniform black spots on vibrant red. Her black trackpants almost indiscernible in the rigged-up club lighting of the supermarket basement, their silhouette visible when a neon disco light passed over her form, also highlighting her red high trainers. She licked at her chapped lips, feeling the mask of facepaint pull at her skin, slathered so thickly that all anyone could see were baby blue eyes on glistening crimson.

Marinette stepped to the centre of the dance floor, designated by being the brightest square area in the room. Raucous cheers burst forth from the gathering, starting a rising chant of her name. Raising her head, Marinette glanced over at the turntables set upon the raised platform at the far end of the room. Volpina looked up from the stack of records she was perusing, catching her eye and extending both hands, palms up, accompanied with a shrug and wide eyes. _Where?_

Shaking her head, Marinette returned the shrug with a mouthed ‘don’t know’. Her eyes swept the room again, flitting from face to face and crossing her arms when she couldn’t find the familiar cat ear hoodie and cocky grin. Where was Chat?

A buzzer sounded, and the crowd’s cheers swelled into a roar that almost drowned out the music. A movement in the corner of her eyes drew her attention to Volpina again, who made a side-to-side gesture with both hands. _Change tracks?_

Again, Marinette shook her head and gave her the ‘ok’ sign to proceed. It would take some adjustments, but performing this one solo shouldn’t pose a problem.

But if she knew Chat, she wouldn’t be performing this one solo.

A boy stepped up to stand next to her, but not the one she was looking for. She held up a fist towards him, which he bumped with his own after a moment’s hesitation.

“Glad you could make it, Prince!”

Prince Ali smiled, practically glowing under the roving disco lights. “I had to sneak out!” he yelled to be heard over the music. “Ready to start?”

“Whenever you are!” she called back, giving him a thumbs up. He nodded, then held up the cordless microphone.

“The people of Victorian welcome you! Give it up for Victorian’s one and only Dancing Queen; Ladybug!”

Marinette leaned over to shout into his ear, “And its Dancing King, Chat Noir!”

“And …. And its Dancing King, Chat Noir?” Prince Ali added, his confusion making the announcement sound like a question. He glanced up and down the room, no doubt looking for the resident alley cat, but Volpina had dropped the needle and Marinette was already moving.

The tempo of the new track was faster, the beats more pronounced, and Marinette spoke it through her footwork. Her body flowed to the thrum of the music, legs weaving the power step through pure muscle memory, incorporating hops. If there was one thing good about having to run halfway across Paris to get here was that she was already warmed up.

Her arms snapped through the air, feet kicking as she spun and twisted, turned and swayed. The music’s rhythm was her heartbeat, her dancing a means to unshackle her soul. As Ladybug, she had the confidence to break. To let loose without concerning herself with what anyone thought. With the face paint on, she had a power within her that screamed to be released. As Ladybug, she could take on the world.

Dropping the ground with a sweeping motion from her legs, she performed a six-step and transitioned into a hand glide with her right palm planted on the ground, lifting her body into the air while the other tapped the floor to push her into spinning faster and faster with the beat. Then, abruptly as if someone had cut the power, the music stopped.

She stuck out a leg to stop her spin, the other held suspended in the air as she froze. Her lungs cried for air, but she remained still. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel the spotlights on her and the weight of every eye in the room.

Then the music returned, right at the intense drum beats. She rolled back into the six-step, then the windmill, building her momentum up into a flare. The cheers of the crowd were lost to her ears, the beat the only thing that mattered as her limbs flashed through the moves with practised ease.

There was no way she could have distinguished those footsteps from the crowd’s stamping feet and the blare of the sound system, no way she could have made out the black outfit in the hectic lighting even with the fluorescent green accents. So she couldn’t explain how she knew exactly when to tuck her legs back in and skid onto her knees, curling in on herself for Chat to jump clear over her in a bounding leap and land with a roll, flashing a cheeky grin and pointing a cheesy finger gun as he snapped his head in her direction.

“Missed me meow-ch?” he ask-shouted, barely audible over the thunderous cheers that threatened to bring down the basement ceiling.

She smirked, a fresh surge of vitality pulsing through her at the sight of the familiar cat-eared hoodie and brilliant green eyes blazing bright like acidic fire against the black paint obscuring his face. “That one was horrible!”

He slinked closer, leaning over her, their chests mere inches apart. At this distance, she could make out the individual golden hairs of his bangs. “Only the best for you, My Lady.”

A laughed bubbled from her lips as she shoved him away. “Shut up and dance!”

Using the momentum of her push to get to his feet, he grabbed her hands, dragging her upright with him. She gave him a light tap on his shoulder and he leaned back further, bending his knees and lowering himself almost to the ground in a Matrix as she vaulted over him. Blending into a hip twist sequence, she shot a look over her shoulder, catching an upside down glimpse of Chat’s grin and dripping face paint before he straightened with a snap, sliding effortlessly into a lightning-fast kick step.

And then they danced. Mere inches apart, they toprocked to the beat, their combined motions drawing a flowing line of harmony despite the nature of the dance.

Breaking with Chat came as natural as breathing. He fit in seamlessly with her moves without her having to compensate or even think, allowing her to move as freely as she did when she danced alone. No, better; he enhanced her movements as she did his, each of them complementing the other in perfect, seamless sync without conscious thought. No one in all of Victorian could dance with her like Chat could. They needed no communication save for exchanged glances or an occasional guiding nudge. Moving with him sparked the air between them, the exhilaration that surged through her being bringing her to life and splashing her world with colour. It pushed her, drove her, electrified her with every muscle she strained, every move she pulled off.

As if every time she danced with Chat was like living for the first time.

She shot another glance at Chat as they brushed shoulders, the barest of seconds passing as they read one another’s moves. He dropped down low, kicking out his legs in a coffee grinder and sweeping her own from under her as she tilted her body in preparation. Controlling her fall, she flipped herself upside down with the momentum to land on the palm of her right hand, using her left to spin into a glide. With enough momentum, she raised her free hand off the ground and lifted her legs, looking as if she was a bird gliding through the air. Twisting to transition the move into a jackhammer, she pumped her arm to push herself up and down, keeping her body and legs off the ground while spinning on the spot.

Catching sight of Chat as her vision of him sped past, she saw him six-step several times over the floor before curling up and performing a backspin. Her jackhammer turned her away, and during her next axis he was headspinning in place, only the top of his head making contact with the floor.

Stopping her turn, she pushed her body higher, locking her anchoring arm and keeping one leg straight. Tucking in the other leg at the knee to complete her one handed freeze, she saw Chat similarly froze his headspin, his body perfectly perpendicular to the ground, both their movements coming to a screeching halt just as the music gave its final beat and died. The disco lights went out, leaving only enough ambient lighting that their silhouettes were just visible. She held her position for several breathless moments, muscles contorting in her effort to stay still in the sudden silence of the basement.

Then normal lights came back on, and the spell was broken. Chat sat up, straightening his hoodie back over his head, laughing with the crowd’s cheers. Marinette smiled, rolling onto her haunches as she paused to catch her breath. Sweat poured from her body, some of the face paint trickling down her cheeks with it, her fringe plastered to her forehead and some strands had come loose from her pigtails to stick to her neck, but it was only now, in times like this, that she felt truly alive.

“And that, everyone, was a performance by Victorian’s very own Dancing King and Dancing Queen!” yelled Prince Ali, the sound system projecting his voice over that of the spectators’. “In a few minutes, we will be showcasing a group performance by the Quantic Kids. But in the meantime, I want to take this moment to remind you all that Victorian will be deviating from our usual alternate Friday openings to the public to open next week as well. In celebration of our founding—”

Marinette started as a familiar tanned hand entered her range of vision. Smiling and grabbing hold of it, she was pulled her to her feet, then she found herself almost eyeball to eyeball with Chat Noir.

“Great moves as always, Ladybug.”

“Not too shabby yourself, _mon chatton_ ,” she said, pushing him away by the nose. “Come on, let’s go rest up. I’m thirsty.”

Together, they made their way through the crowd and back up the stairs, emerging into an empty corridor. Turning to lean against the wall, Chat huffed, swiping his fluorescent green wristband across his cheek as Marinette walked over to a beat up door with a faded ‘Employees Only’ sign. Reaching into the broom closet where a minibar had been hidden, she dug out a water bottle and took a long swig out of it.

“What took you so long?” she asked, tossing it at him when she was done.

He caught it with one hand, nodding his thanks. “School, traffic, being fashionably late. You know, the usual.”

“Well, me too, but that didn’t stop me from showing up on time,” she said, sticking her tongue out at him as he finished off the water. He did the same in return, throwing the empty bottle back at her.

“Hey now, gotta make my dramatic entrance somewhere.” He swept the sweat-dampened locks of his fringe out of his eyes, running his fingers through his hair as he leaned against the concrete wall. The lighting in the corridor was dimmer, but she could still see him from the tanned arms bared by his short-sleeved hoodie and the fluorescent green accents of his clothes, wristbands, and shoes. She eyed him thoughtfully, her gaze travelling back to the cat ears on his hood.

“You have to teach me that sometime.”

He perked up, looking at her with his head tilted to one side before his quizzical eyes lifted in a smirk. “What, how to look as irresistibly attractive as me? Believe me, My Lady; you have way more game than me in that department.”

Snorting a laugh, she jabbed him on the nose. “I meant the headspin, genius.”

He laughed along with her, rubbing the tip of his nose. “You sure about that? No need for that, My Lady. You already make my head spin.”

“Chat!” she exclaimed, slapping him on the forehead with a half-hearted scowl, her voice lacking the venom necessary to really be angry. “I was being serious!”

He stuck out a tongue at her, pushing himself off the wall to stretch his arms above his head. “All right, all right. I’ll teach you. But you need something to protect your head unless you like bald spots. Something like a bandana or a cap will do.”

“A bandana or a cap, got it,” she said, shooting him a wink as she slid down the wall to sit on the floor, wiping the sweat off her brow. Marinette took in a breath of air, eyes slipping closed as she exhaled through her mouth. There was always that moment of vivid clarity after a dance, like a downpour washing away the layers of grime from the chaotic picture of her life. Bottled up anxieties and doubts were released in a violent explosion during the scant few minutes she was on the dancefloor, leaving behind no trace they had ever existed. This was that moment. The entire day’s worth of tension simply slid off her shoulders, contentment relaxing her muscles and easing her mind. Her thoughts were clear, free. Breaking empowered her in a way nothing else could, instilling within her a glowing flame that warmed her being and refused to concede to anything.

Cotton and heated skin brushed against her bare arm and she opened one lazy eye as Chat plopped himself down beside her. He whistled out a breath, throwing back the hood and shrugging off the sweatshirt entirely, revealing a sweat-drenched black tank top beneath that stuck to his torso and abdomen. Running a hand through his dampened hair and stretching out his legs in front of him, he closed his eyes. The black paint formed a hard shadow across half of his face, almost like a ninja mask. Smudges of the twin stripes on either cheek still remained, resembling cat whiskers.

She smiled, looking fondly at the person she called her partner as he threw back his head, fanning his neck while blowing out another breath.

Eyes still closed, Chat smiled.

“Like what you see, My Lady?”

Releasing an ‘ugh’ of mock disgust, Marinette stuck out her tongue and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Still, she smiled.

Infuriating as he could be, Chat was the best partner she could ever have hoped for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: GOODBYE. I AM DONE. I AM DEAD. THAT’S THE END. NO MORE.
> 
> Just kidding, I’m too wrapped up in this hell to stop. XD Besides, I may or may not have this thing fully plotted out already so I’m too deep down the rabbit hole to even think about climbing out.
> 
> This chapter killed me because I was looking up break dancing moves and trying to think of what would make sense in what sequence and it occurred to me that majority of readers would be like me and wouldn’t understand the dance move names so I tried describing them too and the whole time I was screaming ‘I’M A WRITER NOT A CHOREOGRAPHER THIS IS NOT FAIR’ so in the end I gave it my best shot and just keeping fingers crossed I didn’t create something stupid.
> 
> I actually very nearly did, but I asked a friend who I think used to low-key street dance and he straightened me out so there’s that.
> 
> Question for you guys; if I ever write another dance scene again (who am I kidding, its coming sooner or later >


	3. Chapter 3

****  
  
  
  


“What do you feel like having for lunch later?”

“Hm,” Marinette hummed as she inspected a Spiderman baseball cap. It was red, but the spiderweb grid pattern grid all over it wasn't exactly ladybug-friendly. “I’m not sure, don’t you have a preference?”

“No, not really,” Alya shot back, turning a blindingly yellow bowler hat over in her hands. “But we could go to that burger place on the upper level if you like.”

Placing the cap back on the stand with a disgruntled sigh, Marinette conceded that hat shopping was harder than it looked. She’d leapt at Alya’s proposition to go weekend shopping at the mall, made via text conveniently right as she got home after yesterday’s public performance.  It would have been the perfect opportunity to grab a proper hat for Chat’s headspinning lessons, spend some quality time with her best friend, and just have a chance to kick back and relax for a change.

But that didn't seem the case since every cap or beanie she had seen so far just didn't look right. If she was going to break in it, it had to _perfect_. No more, no less. But no such perfection had shown itself to her just yet, and her enthusiasm over the outing was beginning to fizzle out.

Turning to face Alya, Marinette pouted. “But I don’t like their milkshakes. They’re disgusting.”

“You don’t have to get one!”

“But you always do, and just the sound of you slurping one make me sick.”

Alya shook her head, tutting. Plucking another hat from the pile, this one a fashion disaster in outrageous orange and adorned with neon pink feathers clashing horribly with her auburn hair, she plopped it on her head. Alya spun around to face her while adopting a stooped over posture and an exaggerated old woman’s voice.

“You youngins nowadays are such whipper snappers! Can't you ever make up your minds on anything? Back in my day—”

“Alya!” Marinette scolded, but unable to help a guffaw when the other girl swapped out her glasses for a pair of studded 80s retro frames and a tan shawl that resembled a half-drowned platypus.

“Don't you interrupt!” barked Alya flawlessly, waggling a finger and continuing her act. “Your generation needs to learn some respect for their elders—”

“I wouldn’t know about that,” interrupted a familiar voice. “I'd be pretty hard-pressed to respect someone who looks like Professor Snape in drag.”

Marinette spun around with a smile, opening her mouth to quip a greeting at Nino, then promptly froze when she realised who was standing next to him.

“Hi, Nino. Hi, Adrien,” said Alya with a beaming grin, covering for Marinette’s strangled choking noise, replacing her glasses on her nose and straightening to her normal height. Tossing everything on her head back into the discount bin, she asked “What brings you guys here?”

“Just wandering around, you know, hanging out,” replied Nino, jabbing a light elbow at Adrien. “After all, it's not everyday Model Boy here has the chance to visit a peasants’ shopping mall like the rest of us.”

Adrien merely chuckled, ruffling his golden blonde hair as he scratched the back of his head, the mirthful sound like music to Marinette’s ears. He really should laugh more often.

“Come on man,” said Adrien, boxing the taller boy in the shoulder. “It's not like we've never hung out here before. Stop making me sound like a Hollywood A-lister.”

Then his perfect green eyes alighted on her in particular, and Marinette swore her heart stopped dead in her chest. “Hey, Marinette,” he greeted, flashing her a smile that could light up the sky.

Having such perfect teeth should really be made illegal.

“H-h-h-h—” she sputtered, the heat in her cheeks rising to impossible heights. She swallowed past the lump in her throat, the dryness of her tongue an all-too familiar sensation. “H-h-iiii. A-Adri-Adri _en_.”

Good enough. She ducked her head, positive she was blushing to the roots of her hair as she dedicated herself to the study of everyone's footwear. How was it possible that she could pull off gravity-defying handstands and dizzyingly fast spins, but still not have the guts to say hello to one Adrien Agreste?

“We were just talking about having lunch,” said Alya, drawing attention away from a cherry red Marinette wishing desperately for the ground to open beneath her feet and swallow her whole. Training her eyes on Alya’s white shoelaces, she smiled. Alya was the best friend she ever could have asked for.

“How about you guys join us?”

Alya was the worst friend she ever could have asked for.

“Sounds great! I’m starving,” said Nino, rubbing his hand on his stomach. “Any plans on where you ladies want to go?”

“That’s what we were talking about, we couldn’t make up our minds and Marinette here is a bit of a picky eater,” Alya said, sending a short wink at Marinette, who turned a few shades darker.

Adrien raised his hand slightly, like a child requesting permission to speak in class. “Erm, actually, if anyone doesn’t mind, could we go to the burger joint upstairs?”

“I’m down,” Nino agreed almost immediately. “Everyone okay with that?”

“Fine by me. Marinette?” prompted Alya, nudging Marinette’s side with an elbow and eliciting a yelp. “What do you think?”

Face flaming, ignoring Alya’s knowing look and keeping her eyes fixed on Nino’s equally red sneakers, Marinette nodded mutely.

Nino flashed them a double thumbs up before grabbing Adrien’s shoulders and turning him around to hurry him out the store. “Awesome, let’s go!”

“Wait!” said Adrien, casting them an apologetic look over his shoulder. “Were you guys going to buy something? We can wait.”

“Oh! That’s right, were you going to get anything, Marinette?” asked Alya.

Jerking her head up, Marinette said in rush, “Oh, no! Nothing! T-there’s nothing here I want so ….”

“Okay, then let’s get going,” said Alya, flashing her a smile before linking her arm in Marinette’s and dragging her after the two boys. For this, Marinette was simultaneously grateful and annoyed, as she’d found her normally powerful legs had been reduced to jelly.

Halfway up an escalator, Nino tossed over his shoulder, “Hey, just out of curiosity, have any of you guys finished that math homework we got on Thursday?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” said Alya with a groan, shaking her head. “I’ve been so busy with helping my mom out at the hotel since her kitchen hand is on sick leave. I’m lucky she let me go for the weekend.”

“Oh, nooo. I … I forgot about it,” admitted Marinette in a small voice, making a stern mental note to herself to do it later. She couldn’t very well tell them that she’d been pre-occupied with dance sessions with Chat almost every evening after school and that homework had completely slipped her mind.

“Erm. Photoshoots,” grumbled Adrien, pouting. “Photoshoots as far as the eye can see.”

“Oh,” said Nino, giving him an absent-minded pat on the back. “Then what about the physics worksheet that’s due on Monday? You’re good at physics, bro. I bet you already have it all done—”

“Adrien, don’t let him!” Alya exclaimed, interrupting.

“What? Don’t let me what?” said Nino, turning around to give Alya a wide-eyed look.

“Don’t you dare try and play innocent with me, Spielberg. You’re going to do your homework on your own, like you’re supposed to, and stop copying off everyone else’s.”

“But Alya!” said Nino, his expression transforming into that of a kicked puppy. “What makes you think I would ever—”

“I _saw_ you! Tuesday morning! Copying off of Rose’s French homework, and she was too nice to say no! Don’t even try to deny—”

“You know,” said Marinette, a small smile quirking at the corners of her lips. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say the two of you sound just like an old married couple.”

“Yeah, you guys sure do argue like one,” said Adrien, throwing Marinette a conspiratorial wink that sent her heart into a fresh frenzy and knotting up her tongue all over again.

“So does this make us a double date? Me and Alya with you and Marinette?” asked Nino, grinning and waggling his eyebrows at Adrien.

“Well,” drawled Alya, casting a smug grin at her as Marinette felt her face catch fire again. “For the record, I wouldn’t exactly be opposed to the idea ….”

Marinette thought she’d get a heart attack and drop down dead on the spot. Double date? Her and Adrien? _Adrien_? No way. Alya was moving things along much faster than she’d anticipated when just minutes ago having lunch with Adrien was a mere fantastical dream. Her heart simply was not ready.

Spotting a sign for the restrooms, Marinette seized what was very possibly her final opportunity.

“Erm!” Marinette said loudly. “Just give me a second, need the b-bathroom real quick! Alya, come with me to … erm … adjust! Glasses! Your glasses!”

Without waiting for a response from anyone, Marinette darted into the corridor leading to the washrooms, dragging Alya behind her and into the women’s section. The instant they were inside and well out of earshot, Marinette released her death grip on Alya’s elbow.

“ _What are you doing?_ ” she squeaked, grabbing at her pigtails and wringing them like stress balls as she finally allowed her face to break down into an expression of pure, unadulterated mortification. Marinette couldn’t believe her—instigating an impromptu outing to the mall was one thing, but with _Adrien Agreste_? She was not prepared, and her best friend very well knew this. Said best friend’s collapse into laughter was not helping.

“Oh, goodness, Marinette! I—PFFF! Look at your face!”

Letting out a silent scream of agony, Marinette buried her searing hot face in her hands. “Nooo!”

“Oh, Marinette, you really are hopeless,” said Alya, her laughter simmering down to giggles as she gently pried away Marinette’s wrists. Marinette glanced up to meet fond amber eyes as Alya poked her forehead. “Aren’t you happy to spend more time with Adrien?”

“I-I am!” Marinette insisted. “I mean, of course I am! But-but I wasn’t ready, I’m not prepared—”

“Girl, if I had waited for you to go up to the boy and ask him out yourself, I’d be waiting until the end of my days,” said Alya, patting Marinette on the back and offering her a reassuring smile.

“But Alyaaa!” whined Marinette, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes as she shook her head, the tips of her loosened pigtails whipping at her cheeks. “I can’t do this! I can’t! I don’t know what to do, what to say—Oh god, I’m just going to make an utter fool out of myself, I just know it. Or at least, more than I’ve already done.”

“Hey, hey, calm down,” said Alya, laying a placating hand on Marinette’s shoulder. “Take deep breaths, slow down. Listen to me. You can totally do this.”

“I can’t!” Marinette repeated, screwing her eyes shut. “I can’t even string a complete sentence in front of him!”

“Yes, you can!” said Alya, the insistence shining in her eyes. “You’re going to go back out there with your head held high, you’re going to talk to him and _make friends_ because so help me, Marinette. If you don’t ….”

“So what if I don’t?”

“I’m sure he would be very interested in knowing exactly which pictures of him you have up on your wall,” said Alya, her accompanying smirk downright predatory. “Or how about the customised collage desktop wallpaper filled in with loopy hearts—”

Marinette shot her a wide-eyed look. “You wouldn’t.”

“Care to test me?” asked Alya, making a show of taking a step out of the bathroom. Marinette let out an indignant squeak, darting forward to grab Alya by the crooks of her elbows and haul her back, drawing a disapproving look from an elderly lady as she walked in.

“Why are you doing this to meee?” Marinette whimpered. “I thought we were friends!”

Sighing, Alya patted the top of her navy-blue head. “Look, Marinette. You obviously have it bad for him, and while I may not know how Adrien feels about you, it’s definitely not disgust so stop acting like it is. In fact, I think he likes you as a person. If you would just woman up and talk to him like you would with me or Nino, you guys would get along great.”

Groaning, Marinette hanging her head as her shoulders sagged in defeat. “Why do you make everything sound so easy when it’s not?” she grumbled half-heartedly, mumbling to her chest. Alya broke out into another bout of laughter, walking around her. An instant later, she felt hands pull out her hair ties and a pocket hairbrush sifting through her manhandled locks.

“That’s because it really is that simple, Marinette! Just talk to the poor boy, I’m sure he’s been dying to make friends with you, if you’d only just let him.”

A moment of silence followed Alya’s words in which Marinette merely stared at her shoes and Alya pulled her hair up into a high bun. She bit her lip, a tiny, traitorous spark of hope flaring to life in her chest. Looking over her shoulder to meet her best friend’s gaze, she asked, “You really think so?”

Another laugh bubbled from Alya’s lips as she secured the bun. “Oh, I don’t just think so. I _know_ so.”

Giving Marinette a final pat on the back, Alya nudged her into an upright posture before pushing her toward the door.

“Now get out there and knock him dead, tiger!”

* * *

 

Marinette really, really should have seen this coming.

“Do you come here often, Marinette? You look like you know your way around.”

“E-e-erm! N-not much. B-b-busy is me. Usually. Alya and I sometimes here.”

Oh god, even a preschooler would have better sentence structure than her right now. Marinette suppressed the urge to dash her head against the wall, or simply get to her feet and bolt and pretend she’d never been there. Studiously avoiding the politely attentive gaze of the boy seated across from her, Marinette instead cast her eyes up to meet Alya’s.

Standing in line with an oblivious Nino at the far end of the eatery, Alya shot her a wink and encouraging smile. Marinette answered with a glare that could shrivel sunflowers.

Of _course_ Alya would drag Nino off with their orders and leave her alone with Adrien.

If Adrien been weirded out by her flawless grammar, he did not show it. “That must be nice. Nathalie usually packs my schedule full so I don’t get much opportunity to casually hang out like this.” His smile grew then, eyes sparkling ever so slightly. “You look nice with your hair like that, Marinette.”

Breath caught in her throat and knees shaking, it was all Marinette could do to keep from sinking to the floor. Thank goodness she was sitting down.

“T-t-thanks yous. I mean, thank y-you!” she amended quickly, unable to meet his eyes and staring at the tiny bottle of hot sauce between them instead. “A-Alya helped me d-do it.”

“She did? It’s pretty awesome how you and her are such good fr … friends ….”

Adrien trailed off, voice taking on a muddled tone. Concerned, Marinette looked up just in time to jump in her seat as Adrien twisted away to let loose a resounding sneeze.

“S-sorry,” he said thickly, rubbing at his nose. “Something’s making my nose itch and … and ….” Adrien sneezed again, his entire body spasming as his head jerked forward. Startled, Marinette reached for the box of napkins at the end of the table.

“Oh no! A-are you okay? Is there something I can—”

Then she saw it.

Stuck to her sleeve, looking smugly as if it had every right to be there, was a single, fluffy neon pink feather.

“Ohmygod!” said Marinette in a rush as she plucked the feather from her jacket, crushing it between her fingers in her newfound panic. “I’m so s-sorry! It must have fallen from the hat Alya was playing with while we were-we were—”

Adrien shook his head, one hand over his nose. “No no, it’s fine. I’m just—” Whatever Adrien was about to say was lost as he was interrupted by a third sneeze. Squeaking, Marinette shot to her feet, dashing over to the nearest garbage disposal unit and thrusting the feather vehemently inside. Not staying to watch it flutter to its doomed fate, she raced back to the table, shoving the napkins into his hands.

“Sorrysorrysorry!” she said in a rush, scrambling over her words as she stood awkwardly beside him, wringing her hands and grimacing at the shrillness of her voice. Adrien said nothing, snatching up a fresh napkin like a drowning man would grab at a lifeline. “I-I didn’t realise! I really didn’t! I-I-I—”

Tongue-tied, Marinette felt her throat close up in horror. Of course, it was _just_ her luck. Just her luck that a feather would decide to stick itself to her when she was around the _one_ person she knew who was allergic to them. Now Adrien was going to hate her and—

Adrien’s shoulders spasmed again, but instead of another sneeze, he let out a strange huffing sound. She paused, staring wide-eyed. Was he …?

True enough, Adrien erupted into laughter, his resolve breaking.

“S-sorry, Marinette!” he gasped out, clutching at his sides, “but you look so frazzled that it’s kind of cute and I can’t help it!”

Marinette froze, her earlier rush of thoughts coming to a screeching halt.

Cute? Had he just called her _cute_?

‘ _Say something!_ ’ her mind screeched at her as she continued to stare, frozen like a statue. ‘ _Don’t just stand there!_ ’

“U-um,” she said, floundering for words her mind was refusing to supply. “Um—I-I really _am_ sorry about the feather.”

_Wow, very original, Marinette._

Adrien sniffled, still smiling as he held another napkin to his nose. “Nah, don’t worry about it. Wasn’t the first time a friend tried to kill me.”

Marinette froze, repeating the single word in her head like it was a treasured gift. 

‘ _Friend?_ ’

She opened her mouth to reply, but still no words came to mind. A fully-laden tray plonking down on the table saved her from having to come up with an answer.

“That was one time, man. One time! And it was an _accident_!” said Nino as he slid into his seat and grabbed his food from the tray. Whatever Nino had ordered, the burger was almost as large as his own head. “Besides, it wasn’t like I’d seriously poisoned you or any—Whoa, bro! What happened? You look Rudolph’s blonde, two-legged brother!”

Adrien, ever the good-natured boy, had the grace to laugh as Marinette turned an interesting shade of pomegranate red.

“Got unlucky with a feather,” he explained. “No big deal.”

Another full tray made its way to the table, Alya elbowing Marinette in the ribs as she slipped into the seat next to hers. Marinette gave her friend a sidelong glance who shot her a wink and mouthed, _‘See?’_.

Marinette feigned a scowl and turned away, unable to hide the smile on her face. Friend. He'd called her a friend.

They started to eat. Cheeks still hot, Marinette quickly unwrapped her beef burger and took a bite. Within moments, her eyes were drawn to Adrien—as always. He paused after taking a long drag out of his orange juice, still sniffling. Nino had wasted no time in gorging on his food, consuming almost a quarter of his quadruple beef and bacon deluxe in a single bite. Noticing Alya’s own nose stuck in her phone, food mostly untouched, Marinette swallowed to speak.

“Lots of notifications today, Alya?” asked Marinette, hoping to inspire less mortifying conversation for once. Alya looked up from her screen with a toothy grin.

“You bet! The Ladyblog is exploding with messages and hits since the show at Victorian yesterday.”

“Jeez, Alya, it’s people like you that give us youngins a bad rep,” said Nino, giving his best impression of an old man’s voice around a mouthful of fries. “Don’t you know it’s rude to check your phone during a meal?”

“And speaking with your mouth full isn’t?” questioned Alya with a lopsided smirk.

“She’s got a point, dude. Pretty sure you don’t need _all_ of that,” said Adrien, reaching forward to snatch a cheesy fry from Nino’s box.

“Hey! You've got your model diet plan to keep!”

Adrien shoved the fry in his mouth and made a big show out of chewing it. “Who cares? I’m already throwing it the window, aren’t I?”

“Who’s side are you on anyway?” grumbled Nino, retaliating by stealing three of Adrien’s own fries. “Anyway man, where the heck did you go off to yesterday? Alya and I looked away for one second and then _poof!_ You were gone!”

Adrien swallowed, eyes wide. “Oh, er, yeah, I got so excited that I went in before you guys. Sorry about that.”

“But we looked for you inside and couldn’t find you,” Alya interjected, thoughtlessly stealing a fry from Nino’s packet and ignoring the boy’s enraged protests.

Adrien shrugged, taking another long drag from his juice. “I guess we must have missed each other, I was trying to find Nino.”

Nino rolled his eyes before directing them at Marinette. “And you too! Where did you go after class? You were running like the devil was after you.”

Alya turned to her too, interrogation with Adrien forgotten. “Yeah, girl! We could have gone seen the performance together. It would have been awesome, especially since we got a ride in _Adrien’s_ limo.”

Mouth full, Marinette swallowed slowly, looking up from her burger to meet her friend’s near-manic gaze. Without breaking eye contact, Alya seized her too-bright pink milkshake and took a loud, deliberate slurp. Marinette shot her a scowl. The auburn-haired girl merely smirked around her straw.

“I just … um ….” Marinette cast her mind out for an excuse, fishing through the ones she’d used recently. “I-I’d forgotten to tell you that my parents needed help in the bakery! There was a huge order yesterday and I had to rush over to help before the client came over to pick them up so they needed an extra hand.”

“Oh,” said Alya, her suspicious look devolving into one of pity. She patted Marienette’s shoulder with her non-greasy hand. “It’s okay, there’s always two weeks from now.”

“Next week, actually!” said Nino, enthusiasm returning as he leaned forward over the table. “Remember? The annual anniversary for Victorian’s founding! There’s going to be a huge party—”

“Oh my god, yeah! How could I forget?! Okay Marinette, you have to come this time! It’s going to be _fantastic_ —”

Marinette nodded weakly, trying to maintain her smile as the guilt weighed heavier and heavier in her stomach like a leaden stone. She didn’t like having to lie to Alya, but Ladybug was supposed to be a secret. Her secret. She couldn’t afford anyone ever finding out, not even her best friend.

“—and you too, Adrien! We’re gonna stay together this time so no running off on your own, okay?”

Adrien gave Alya an uneasy laugh, tilting his head to the side. “I’ll try my best!”

Marinette felt the guilt in her gut grow heavier. She knew Alya was just trying to set her up with another opportunity for time alone with Adrien, but she wasn’t going to be there to take it because _she_ was part of the performance. Head bowed, Marinette nibbled glumly at the protruding edges of her lettuce. A perfect opportunity, and she’d have to let it go. 

Sighing, Marinette swirled a fry around in sauce before popping it into her mouth. At least he would be out in the crowd, watching her. Her cheeks heated again, imagining the weight of his eyes on her and only her as she was breaking. Sure, he wouldn’t _know_ it was her, but still—

“So what were you looking for?”

Marinette started, sitting up ramrod straight, blue eyes darting up to meet the very green ones of Adrien Agreste.

“W-w-what?”

He smiled kindly at her, and Marinette thought she would melt. “You seemed like you were shopping for something specific, something important. What was it?”

“O-oh!” she said, wishing desperately that her face didn’t look as flushed as it felt. Beside her, she vaguely heard Alya strike up a random conversation with Nino. “Um …. It … it wasn’t r-really i-important or anything. Just a silly h-h-hat ….”

His smile grew wider as he shot a wink at her. “A hat, huh? I bet you could make one yourself.”

“W-what?”

“I’ve seen your fashion projects, Marinette. And you’re good! I bet you could make something better than anything you’ll find in a retail store. Besides, you can make it exactly the way you want it to be, and that way it would be perfect.”

Marinette swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. Was she dreaming or had he just complimented her _again_?

“Y-yeah. Perfect. You’re perfect. UM, I MEAN. Your _idea_. Perfect. Yes. You thank.” Marinette shoved the burger into her mouth, taking a huge bite before she could say anything else stupid.

And proceeded to choke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took so long to update (almost a month? whoops)! I know I said that updates would be sporadic, but I was hoping I'd do better than this. But here I am messing up updates and mixing up story chapters and formatting and AGH. Not to mention I wasn't sure about this chapter because it felt like too big of a shift from the previous one and on top of that it's only partially beta'd. Please voice any concerns about this chapter, as I'm considering revising it slightly once I can look at it with fresh eyes and my beta has gone through it.
> 
> On that note, thank you guys so so much for all your wonderful comments and reviews! Writing is like a trek through the Sahara, and every comment is like a drink of the freshest, purest water you can imagine. Yes, all writers are thirsty as heck for feedback, we cannot deny. Every time I find myself losing the drive to write, I go back and read all the comments everyone left behind and get myself going again. So for everyone who leaves feedback, THANK YOU! I wouldn't have made it this far this soon without you.


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